


A Taste of Sin

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Couch Sex, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock's first time came on what seemed to be an ordinary night; well, ordinary for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Sin

Sherlock would say that John saw but didn’t observe. But John did. The way Sherlock’s hands moved across his violin, the way he moved in his clothes. The way he rushed in frenzy, or stilled in contemplation. The way the light struck his verdigris eyes. The way moonlight softened his skin. And those sinful lips that John longed to sip from.

For all the almost starts and not-quites, it ended up being a rather ordinary night when they both let out the breath they’d been holding and tumbled into one another's arms. Ordinary by their standards anyway, ending with Sherlock perched on the sofa while John tended a split lip, wiping away the blood that stained porcelain skin.

“It’ll be good as new in a few days,” said John. Without thinking too much about it, he raised his hand and ran his thumb along the undamaged portion. Sherlock’s breath was warm against the pad as he parted his mouth.

John looked up. Their eyes met. And in that moment, they were lost. John cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck with his other hand and drew him in, moving his thumb at the last moment to capture Sherlock’s lips with his own, tasting the still-fresh tang of blood, and beyond that, something sweeter.

Sherlock melted into John’s grasp, parting his mouth further, inviting John’s tongue. John was only too happy to oblige, pressing him back on the sofa and covering his body with his own, knocking Sherlock’s thighs apart to lay between them.

With a breathy moan, Sherlock’s hands came up and wrapped around John’s back.

All the evidence of Sherlock’s desire was pressed underneath him, and John knew that Sherlock could feel the same from him. He rolled his hips, forcing another gasp from Sherlock, his head dropping back, exposing that beautiful column of neck.

It was impossible for John to resist, kissing and nibbling and licking his way down. Sherlock gasping and shifting underneath him, but not pulling away, nor giving any sign that he wanted John to do anything but continue his downward trajectory.

John let go of Sherlock’s hair and tackled the straining buttons, kissing breastbone as he traveled down, pulling back until he was kneeling before the sofa, Sherlock’s legs still on either side of him. He spread open the shirt and looked up at Sherlock.

The detective was seemingly still. But John could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the slight tremble in his thighs, the way his cock twitched as John’s hands reached for the button of Sherlock’s trousers.

Sherlock looked down and gave a nod, bracing one foot on the coffee table and knocking over some magazines in the process. Neither of them cared about the mess. John drew Sherlock’s cock out, finding it as elegant and slender as the rest of him. Holding Sherlock’s lust-blown eyes, John dragged his tongue up the shaft.

Head dropping back again, Sherlock gave out a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. John smiled against his skin and went down on him slowly, savoring the salty-sweet taste. He reached down to unzip himself, needing to free his cock from its denim prison.

“John,” whispered Sherlock, in a register even deeper than normal, a tone that went straight to John’s cock. John decided right then and there that the sexiest thing he had ever heard was Sherlock Holmes moaning his name.

Bobbing his head slowly, John savored, Sherlock moved again, hips thrusting as he sought more. “Yes, John. Please.”

John smiled and pulled off, giving a kiss to the head of his spit-slick cock. “Can I ride you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock raised his head and nodded. His hand dug into the couch cushions and came up with a small tube of lube, handing it to him.

“Occupying yourself on the sofa when I'm at work?” asked John, standing and pushing off his jeans and pants. He watched Sherlock, giving his cock a stroke. 

Sherlock sat up in one graceful movement and swallowed John’s thick cock. 

John groaned. “Christ,” he growled, getting the tube open and coating his fingers. Dropping the lube on the table, he pressed two into himself, hissing at the burn. He wrapped his other hand in Sherlock's curls, thrusting into his mouth. And _oh God_ those lips wrapped around him. It made John wish he had a mind palace of his own to store that image. 

Sherlock moaned, opening his eyes and looking up at him. It almost made John come undone right then and there. He pulled away, panting harshly. 

“Jo-?”

John cut off Sherlock's question with another kiss, tasting their sin as he pushed Sherlock back again on the sofa and climbed up to straddle him. 

Sherlock's hands cupped John’s hips as the doctor quickly slicked Sherlock’s cock. John gave him a filthy smile as he shifted up and guided Sherlock inside. 

“Yes,” hissed Sherlock, clearly struggling to stay still as John worked him deeper. 

“Good, Sherlock,” praised John. A flush colored Sherlock's cheeks. 

John bottomed out and ground down. Sherlock moaned, pushing the table and knocking more things to the floor. 

Taking himself in hand, John began to ride Sherlock’s cock, small moans escaping his own lips. Sherlock's eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. 

“I'm going to come,” said John. “All over your chest.”

Sherlock forced his eyes open again and nodded, licking his now-swollen lips. John leaned down to steal another kiss, stroking himself off, hot come splattering between them, staining John’s shirt, not that he could be arsed about that. 

John sat back, putting one foot on the floor as he started riding in earnest. Sherlock nearly shouted with pleasure, grabbing John’s hips with bruising force as he yanked him down and came. 

Growling, John leaned in and kissed him sloppily, the taste of blood reminding him of the reason they were on the sofa in the first place. He started to pull away, only for Sherlock to wrap arms around him and pull John down against his chest. 

“Well, if my shirt wasn't ruined before, it certainly is now,” grumbled John good naturedly. 

Sherlock didn't bother responding, just shifted into a more comfortable position. John smiled and closed his eyes. If this would get Sherlock to sleep, well who was he to argue?

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
